


Adjustments (For Zutara Week Day 5: Hesitancy)

by ZutaraRightsActivist



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, One Shot, Zutara Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZutaraRightsActivist/pseuds/ZutaraRightsActivist
Summary: Post-war, Sokka goes on a shopping trip to replace boomerang and to ponder the changes that have taken place, especially for Katara, since Zuko joined the group. In the marketplace, he sees two cloaked figures and follows them, believing them to be pro-Ozai assassins. However, what he finds might be different, and his worldview may require some adjustments.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 128





	Adjustments (For Zutara Week Day 5: Hesitancy)

A warrior must have keen observation skills. He must be able to notice a change in his surroundings, no matter how subtle. His instincts must be honed so he can be ready to strike in a moment's notice and tear his prey asunder like a dolphin piranha. 

That's how he knows that his sister is different now. 

Sokka pondered the situation as he casually strolled through the marketplace of the fire nation capital, perusing all things metal and sharp. He was slightly annoyed that he was letting his sister distract him from one of his favorite pastimes. Suki had offered to go shopping with him, especially since he still had a slight limp from his injury during the final battle of the war, but he had insisted on going by himself. Normally Katara would also insist on going with him as well, pestering him about his healing and making sure he wasn’t spending too much money, but lately she wasn’t around much. She would appear at some points, usually mealtimes and any other planned Team Avatar activities, but then she was off again - never offering details as to her whereabouts. It was unlike her. So, Sokka took himself shopping for a replacement for boomerang. However, this trip was as much about shiny new weapons as it was about figuring out the answer to the question he had asked on the cliffs they had been camping some weeks ago, prior to the end of the war. 

“What's with her?”

The change in her was something that had happened over time. It had first started when Zuko had appeared, begging to join their group. 

He had seen her angry before, certainly. In fact, it occurred to him that this journey to stop the war would never have even happened if it wasn't for his sister's temper. But this time it was different. It wasn't the normal exasperation that came with her mothering character, it wasn't the impatience or nagging that he often bonded with Toph over. It was strangely personal, and the cut was deep, as if Zuko had personally sliced into her with space sword.

The thought of space sword brought a slight sting to Sokka's eyes. Even the exemplary craftsmanship of the finest fire nation blacksmith couldn't compete with a blade of that magnitude. His lip quivered thinking about the sacrifices he had made to end the war, still able to envision space sword spinning toward the ground below from the heights of the war balloon. But soon, the glimmering steel of a dagger caught his attention, and he approached a large and extravagant weapons store with glee. The dagger’s handle was carved in the shape of a dragon’s mouth, with the sharp edges of the weapon appearing to roar like fire from its gilded jaws. Maybe he was a dagger guy instead of a boomerang guy now. He ran his fingers down the cold metal of the blade. 

It was almost as cold as the shiver that had run through him when Katara had told him he hadn't loved their mother as much as she did. He had never heard a tone from her that icy, that determined to hurt. They fought, as siblings often do, but she had never said anything so intentionally hurtful to him before that moment. It wasn't until then that he understood how Katara had felt all of the years that they had lived without their mother in the little village on the south pole. But he still had not understood the pairing that stood before him, Zuko standing behind her quietly with a bag slung over his shoulder. Why had it mattered to Zuko that Katara hated him, and why had Katara consented to go on a journey with someone she clearly resented? 

Even more strange, when they had come back from their field trip, Katara’s attitude toward Zuko was completely altered. She went from making snide comments, avoiding him, and employing every passive aggressive technique he had watched her master over the years to make Zuko uncomfortable to making efforts to make him feel included in their group activities and inviting him into group hugs. Despite his focus on the Ember Island production of The Boy in The Iceberg, he had noticed that she did not protest when Zuko insisted on sitting next to her. After those two had gone to find the Southern Raiders, their physical proximity had increased exponentially. In the days and hours leading up to the final battle, they were inseparable. That included Zuko immediately asking Katara to face Azula with him. If the imminent doom of Sozin’s comet hadn’t been looming over them, he may have confronted Katara about it. But they were at the precipice of their destinies, or whatever it was Iroh had said, and time did not allow it. All he could hope for at the time was that Zuko brought his sister back safely, and he did just that, even if he himself was gravely injured in the process. 

Sokka withdrew his gaze from the dragon hilt dagger, lingering a bit with the weapon, but eventually moving on. He wandered through the shop leisurely, poking at the pointy ends of most of the objects on display. Nothing felt exactly right, nothing felt like it could be an appropriate replacement for his trusty boomerang. Sokka frowned deeply. Weaponless, he didn’t know who he was. Even in this time of great peace, strife remained. Zuko’s coronation had brought out the best of the Fire Nation, but the worst of it still remained, and did not accept defeat gracefully. Talk of assassins and Ozai loyalists permeated the palace, even as Sokka could tell that the new Fire Lord had tried to hide the situation from the rest of them. Come to think of it, he had been notably absent recently as well, although he nearly always blamed it on Fire Lord duties. 

Spears lined the wall of the shop, and various models of Fire Nation armor sat menacingly between rows of axes, maces, and bows. Sokka passed a table of shuriken and hesitated, wondering if he could get Zuko to get that gloomy girl Mai to teach him about them. He thought of the amazing sound effects that he could come up with when throwing them. Like “slap-a-pow”, but even cooler! Maybe that could be his new thing? He hadn’t seen his would-be teacher around much lately, although he was sure she had gotten out of prison after the war had ended. 

The young water tribe man sighed deeply, closing his eyes. When he opened them, the top of a bald, liverspotted head was the only thing he could see. He leaped back, exclaiming. 

“What the-” he started, his arms flying above up like two wriggling elbow leeches. 

“Looking for something in particular?” the old, old, so old man asked, his voice creaking out of him like a swinging ancient temple door.

Sokk recovered from his shock quickly, bringing his fingers to his chin and studying the old shopkeeper. He paused a moment, and then answered.

“Are you familiar wi-” he started, but the speckled gentleman in front of him interrupted.

“You’re from the water tribe, aren’t you, young man?” he asked. Sokka was searching for hostility in his voice, but found none. 

“Yes, I am” he replied, “why?”

“I’m familiar with water tribe weaponry, although my shop sells no items that are completely the same. However, I may have something that will be more familiar to you,” the shopkeeper explained, turning around abruptly, his too long robes sweeping dramatically around his diminutive frame. Sokka followed behind, trying not to walk fast enough to step on the red fabric gliding along the floor in front of him. Finally, the old man stopped in front of a bronze and glass case. Inside was a purple velvet cushion with three different weapons on it, all of them much different from the other offering in the store. 

“That one” the old man pointed a boney finger toward a piece with four blades unfolding from a center medallion. Sokka hunched down to get a closer look. The weapon reminded him of a schematic he had seen in the mechanist’s files for some kind of structure that could create energy just from the wind. He thought he remembered it being labeled a “windmill”.

“Can I see it?” Sokka said, wide-eyed. The old man produced an intricately carved key from the sleeve of his robe, unlocked the glass box, and gingerly picked up the weapon. 

“Be careful,” the man said scoldingly, to which Sokka almost replied by revealing his true identity as a recent war hero, but decided against it. It was impossible to know who may or may not be a loyalist in these times, and he still didn’t actually own a weapon. Instead, he cocked an eyebrow, and offered a curt “sure” to the old man, before taking the weapon into his own hands.

It was different. He hadn’t seen anything like it before, but he liked the weight of it in his hand. It felt familiar, even if it wasn’t. 

The shopkeeper held out his hand, beckoning Sokka to put the weapon back in it. Once in his possession, the old man folded the blades in a pattern, leaving just a sheathed weapon that could easily fit on a utility belt. Sokka jolted back as the old man then suddenly pressed the release, sending the blades back out to their initial threatening position.

“You can also activate the blades as you throw it, like so” he explained, as he threw the weapon at a target in the back of the store with more force than Sokka could have ever imagined. 

“Retrieve that and try it yourself” the man pointed to the target. 

Sokka did as he was told. It felt nice to throw something again. Still, it wasn’t the same thing as boomerang. He hesitated.

“Also, if thrown just right, this weapon will come back to you,” the old shopkeeper said, “I believe you call weapons like that ‘boomerangs’ in your tribe”.

Sokka gasped and immediately dug in his pocket for his gold. 

____

Back on the streets of the marketplace, Sokka beamed, his new purchase in hand. His love for his new projectile had taken his mind off of his worry for Katara entirely. He admired it as he walked for a long while, marveling at the orange glint of the setting sun reflecting off of the smooth steel. It would never really replace boomerang, and using this in its place would definitely mean he’d have to make some adjustments. Still, it would do until he could get back to the Southern Water Tribe at least. There was nothing wrong with a little variety. Finally, he sheathed the weapon, allowing his nose and growling stomach to take him in the direction of a fire flakes booth just a few storefronts ahead of him. 

He continued smiling proudly as he walked, picking up his pace a bit both to get to the food and get back to the others sooner. He was excited to show Suki what he had found, and practice with this new not-boomerang. He briefly looked at the sky, noting the crescent moon that was already hanging in the sky, waiting impatiently to replace the fading rays keeping it at bay.

Sokka stepped into the long shadow of one of the taller buildings in the marketplace. The daylight was shrinking quickly, and shadows criss-crossed the main thoroughfare of the market. Suddenly, his path was cut off by two hooded figures darting in front of him, racing across the bricks of the street, their black cloaks billowing behind them. 

Startled, the young water tribe man reached for his new weapon. He hesitated, trying to figure out what two people like that could be doing at a time like this. Were they Ozai loyalists? Was Zuko in danger? Were they trying to shatter the only peace the world had known in his short 16 years? 

Almost as an instinct, Sokka started after the pair, running as fast as he could. He caught a glimpse of a black cloak turning a corner down a side street and followed, maintaining enough distance so as not to be detected by the would-be assassins. It wasn’t exactly in his plan to confront them alone while still recovering from his injuries. However, if they were plotting something, maybe he could find out what it was. 

His breath came out of him in heaves as he continued to run. It was more difficult on a still healing leg, and he begrudgingly thought of Katara once again, wishing he had spent more healing sessions with her. Still, he was a warrior, and he would push through the pain. 

The paths he was going down now were narrower, and fewer people milled about. Sokka couldn’t tell if they were heading into or out of the city. He was losing daylight, and the black blur of the cloaked figures was becoming harder to spot. They were faster than he was as he limped along, and eventually he lost sight of the pair. 

Still, he had to try to find them again. He had hunted on more than one occasion, and instead of trying to put his still-healing body to work, he decided to try to use his brain instead. He spotted a ladder on the side of one of the homes and climbed it as quickly as he could.

From this vantage point, he could see the start of the moonrise, and stars dotted amongst the deep purple hues of the new night. The sun was now completely gone, hidden behind the ridges of the caldera. City guards had already lit the street lamps in the small side streets of the city, punching flames into the waiting fuel. In their amber glow, he saw his prey. 

The two had slowed considerably, and he could now see them walking slowly toward a large fountain in the square of some of the lower class houses that marked this side of the city. Despite its size, the fountain was plain, as could be expected for this type of neighborhood. This was not the grand fountains and gardens enjoyed by the upper class elite. However, it was uniquely designed, as the rush of the waters was not from a single geyser in the middle of the circular structure. The fountain was indeed circular, but instead a wall of water curved around half of the pool. Two stacked waterfalls fell gracefully into the pool, creating a small rippling of waves. Sokka could just make out some carvings around the outer rings of the fountain’s edge, but could not see what they were. 

Sokka decided he needed to get closer. The two cloaked figures had stopped by this fountain, out of the light of the streetlamps. If he got a little closer, he may be able to hear their conversation from this vantage point without being seen. Even so, stealth was never his strongest point.

He mentally apologized to the family living in the home underneath the roof he was currently inhabiting as he lifted up the ladder he had previously climbed. He placed it on the roof’s edge, bridging the gap between this building and the next. He repeated this pattern until finally reaching a building within earshot of the two mysterious individuals.

He careened his head over the ledge of the roof, trying to stay out of eyesight. Darkness blanketed the area. For the first time, Sokka noticed that the fountain plaza didn’t have a single streetlamp. This must be why the would-be assassins chose this area as their meeting spot. His mouth set in a hard straight line, and he narrowed his eyes. 

From his first impression, he could hear a young woman’s voice. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite make it out. She barely spoke above a whisper. 

“What are we doing here? It’s dangerous!” Sokka could hear the harsh tone, hushed as it was. Still, there was worry behind the words. The taller figure’s response came out in a gravelled hush. As much as he tried, the young warrior couldn’t make it out. He thought he heard “just wait”.

Wait for what?

Sokka decided he had to get even closer. He gingerly placed the ladder down the side of the building, safely out of sight. Taking one last glance down at the couple, he quietly made his way down to street level. 

The hairs on the back of Sokka’s neck stood up. He kept his palms pressed to the cool stone of the humble home from which he had just climbed down as he crept toward the plaza’s edge. He briefly thought of how, even if he wasn’t discovered and killed here by these loyalist creeps, Suki might murder him for making her worry. 

Still, if what he was doing could protect the peace, it was worth it to press on. He turned his back to the building and slid closer to the couple. He kept one hand fixed fast to the weapon he had bought in the market, just in case. He prayed that it would fly as true as boomerang if needed. 

“We should go back. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he could hear the girl say. Sokka’s heart started beating wildly. He knew that voice. 

“Nothing is going to happen. Just wait. Please.” a familiar rasp sounded out of the taller cloaked figure. 

Sokka swallowed hard. He continued listening to make sure his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. This stealth thing really wasn’t for him.

“What are we waiting for? Why did we run all the way out here? You know there are loyalists out there just waiting for an opportunity to strike. We should go!” Sokka could clearly make out his sister’s voice now. 

“Well, it’s kind of a surprise. It only happens on nights like this. You’ll see!” That was definitely Zuko’s signature rasp, and the masked exasperation was even more of a giveaway. Still, his tone was tender, almost nervous.

What was Zuko doing out at night with his sister running around in dark cloaks? Sokka thought back to the events of the day, but nowhere in his mind was a memory of drinking cactus juice. He shook his head violently. 

“I just want to show you something I think you’ll like. It’s the least I can do after, well, everything.” he said, looking at the waterbender intently. 

“Zuko. . .” Katara protested, but the Fire Lord took his gaze from her and looked up at the sky. His cloak fell back just enough that his scar was visible in the moonlight. 

From this vantage point, Sokka could see the carvings on the fountain clearer. The fountain was covered in carvings of the moon in its various stages, and the carvings were inlaid with some kind of pale green stone. 

He didn’t know why, but he was frozen in place, listening to this conversation between his sister and the firebender. Is this where Katara had been going all these months? To be with Zuko? And is this what Zuko had been doing whenever he’d complain about the neverending duties of being Fire Lord? 

“Katara, look,” Zuko said, pointing to the water in the fountain. The reflection of the crescent moon filled the circle of water completely, the waves from the waterfalls distorting the image slightly. The pale green stones in the carvings of the outer rim began to glow, and Sokka could hear Katara gasp.

“Oh my goodness, it’s so beautiful. . .Zuko! You knew this was going to happen?” Katara grabbed the firebender’s arm, her touch clearly startling him. 

In the glow from the stones, Sokka could see him give a small smile and nod. He released himself from her grasp to turn to face her, removing her hood and lightly brushing her cheek as he moved one of her hair loops. 

Katara looked down slightly, but she reached up to grab his hand as it left her hair. 

“Thank you, Zuko.” She looked up at the firebender then, her blue eyes even brighter in the moonlight. 

Sokka’s grip on his new not-boomerang tightened as he watched what happened next. He felt a hot anger rise in his throat, and struggled to stay quiet in the shadows.

Katara lifted onto her tiptoes, slid her hands behind Zuko’s neck, and put her lips on his.

A warrior must have keen observation skills. A warrior must be able to notice a change in his surroundings, no matter how subtle. A warrior’s instincts must be honed so he can be ready to strike in a moment's notice and tear his prey asunder like a dolphin piranha. 

A warrior must protect his family. 

Sokka unsheathed his new weapon, readying it to be thrown. How dare Zuko kiss his sister? Just because they were friends and allies now didn’t mean he could go around sneaking out at night and kissing his sister! It was as if he was transported back to the Southern Water Tribe, facing down a Fire Nation warship barreling into the ice ridge that protected his tiny village. He felt the same jolt of adrenaline at this as he did when he first faced down the fire prince.

He hesitated. 

“Katara! Um, oh, uh, I’m sorry” Zuko started, recoiling from Katara. The waterbender stepped back, confusion and hurt marking her features. 

“What? Oh,” she sputtered, but was stopped when Zuko put his hands on both of her shoulders. He spoke softly. 

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, his tone very serious, “don’t feel like you have to-” 

He was cut off. “Do you love me?” Katara blurted, raising her voice as if she had forgotten her worries of danger. Zuko was quiet for a moment. He lowered his own hood and their eyes met, soft amber to ocean blue. 

Katara poked at his chest forcefully, Sokka could hear that she was near tears as she murmured quieter, “do you?”

A warrior must have keen observation skills. A warrior must be able to notice a change in his surroundings, no matter how subtle. As Katara pointed at the firebender, he remembered a star-shaped wound on Zuko’s chest when they had arrived back at the palace after defeating Ozai. He had figured that Azula had gotten a good hit on him, but clearly there was more to it than that. Sokka continued to listen to the exchange. 

“Would you have jumped in front of Azula’s lightning for anyone?” she persisted, continuing to jab at the old wound on Zuko’s chest. 

Finally, he responded. 

“I wouldn’t have had anyone else there,” he started carefully. “It- it was like an instinct for me to do what I did. I told you when we started that I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt, and I meant it,” the Fire Lord took a breath, sounding like the teenager he actually was. 

“I couldn’t have bared the thought of you getting hurt, or. . .” he trailed off, but steadied himself and spoke sternly when he started again.

“I would jump in front of a thousand lightning bolts for you, Katara.”

She chuckled and sobbed at the same time, throwing herself into his arms as she had on the dock at Ember Island, only this time they stayed in the embrace. The warm glow of the fountain’s stones, activated by the moon’s reflection, softly illuminated them as this time Zuko bent down to place a kiss gently on Katara’s waiting lips.

A warrior’s instincts must be honed so he can be ready to strike in a moment's notice and tear his prey asunder like a dolphin piranha. 

From the shadows, Sokka sheathed his weapon. He had almost let his warrior instincts lead him astray. His instinct to protect Katara, however strong, was misguided. 

A warrior must have keen observation skills. He must be able to notice a change in his surroundings, no matter how subtle. His instincts must be honed so he can be ready to strike in a moment's notice and tear his prey asunder like a dolphin piranha. 

That's how he knows that his sister is different now. 

All of the signs were there. The young warrior was almost ashamed that he hadn’t yet put the pieces together. The complete change in attitude, the physical closeness, the way they had been almost inseparable since their showdown with Azula. It all made sense now.

Katara was in love with Zuko. And almost more importantly, Zuko was very clearly in love with Katara, so much so that he nearly died trying to protect her. 

In all of his efforts to track these two down and in all his curiosity in eavesdropping, he realized he didn’t even take in the beautiful sight of the moon himself. Sokka closed his eyes briefly, opening them to look at the curved moon still hanging in the sky. He gave a smile to Yue, and thanked her for any part she had in offering this clarity. It dawned on him that it wasn’t too long ago that he, too, used to meet someone he shouldn’t have loved in the moonlight. 

The young warrior took one more look at his new not-boomerang in the moonlight before chuckling softly to himself and turning to head back to the palace. A few adjustments, he thought to himself wryly. A few adjustments indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything for Zutara Week before, and this is super late (although every week is Zutara week baybeeee) because I wasn't planning to this year either. But seeing all of the amazing works and reading some of the great fanfiction that's come out this time around really got me thinking about these two, and this idea just came to me in a dream so I wrote it down. 
> 
> I'm not sure if this is an angle anyone has ever taken before. I hope it's at least somewhat unique or a different thing for folks to read or consider.
> 
> Also, sidenote, I don't know anything about weapons, but I did some googling and a windmill shuriken was the closest thing I could get to a weapon, fictional or otherwise, that was close to a boomerang but might still exist within the Fire Nation. The weapon wasn't the focus of the story, so I hope it didn't ruin it lol. I just wanted it to be like Sokka's signature boomerang but make sense within the fire nation. Also I know the moon probably rose way too fast but WORK WITH ME HERE it's for the ROMANNNNNCE. 
> 
> Anyway, here it is. Thanks for the read. Zutara Rights Always. Happy Zutara Week 2020. Hell yeah.


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